


Everything Is Alright

by shadowfire125



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: 19 - Sandstorm, Episode Tag, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-07
Updated: 2013-08-07
Packaged: 2017-12-22 18:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/916542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowfire125/pseuds/shadowfire125
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cecil is shaken by his trip through the portal. Carlos tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Everything Is Alright

**Author's Note:**

> I guess now I can add Welcome to Night Vale to the list of things that are ruining my life. Companion piece to the Sandstorm episodes - Cecil just sounded so traumatized by Kevin's studio that I had to do something to un-break my heart.

Carlos watched his radio in horror, Petri dish of sand he'd managed to collect without touching forgotten on the table in front of him as Cecil's voice faded into the distance, promising to not be gone long. He held his breath as only a strange hum emanated from the speakers, and then the faint sound of footsteps approaching. Heartbeat pounding in his ears, he waited for the return of the familiar soothing voice.

Instead, someone else spoke, a voice higher and less flowing and too cheery, and Carlos felt his blood run cold. Desert Bluffs? The equipment was dryer than it should be? Bloodless desk? _Where was Cecil_? The permanently scientific part of his brain automatically supplied a theory: Cecil had swapped places with the rival town's broadcaster.

Carlos barely even heard the weather, just sitting in his chair and gripping the edge of his desk so tightly his knuckles were white. The only reason he hadn't already hopped into his truck and broken the speed limit to the station was because of the sandstorm, and so the action would create more problems than it solved.

When Cecil's mellifluous voice greeted him at the conclusion of the weather, Carlos breathed a huge sigh of relief. _He was alive_. Carlos couldn't agree more with the broadcaster's closing message.

Despite his relief, the second the storm blew over, Carlos was in his car and headed for the station. He told himself that his hurry was due to scientific curiosity about the portal and not because of that odd strain in Cecil's voice that made his gut clench. He was definitely racing up the steps to the broadcasting room to get as fresh data as possible, and _not_ because of Cecil's dark hints about the place he'd gone. But all denials and, indeed, other thoughts flew out the window as soon as he (calmly) swung open the door and saw Cecil slumped in front of his mic, elbows propped on the desk and head in his hands, fingers clenched in his hair. His shoes were stained deep red, and there was a trail of bloody footprints leading from a blank wall to where he was sitting.

Carlos swallowed. "Cecil?" he asked tentatively.

Cecil's head snapped up, eyes wide, even his ethereal vertical third eye making an appearance to stare blankly at him, and his usually neatly combed hair was twisted wildly. It took a moment for recognition to dawn over his face. "Oh, Carlos!" he said with a smile, but its usually blinding wattage was dimmed. The third eye slid shut and vanished like a tendril of smoke. "What a wonderful surprise!"

"Are you alright?" Carlos asked.

"Of course!" Cecil said, and he was a terrible liar. His voice shook on the last syllable, and his face was pallid and drawn.

"Where did you go, Cecil?" Carlos asked, almost softly, almost like he was trying not to spook him.

Cecil's eyes darted to the wall across from him, and he managed a pathetic, "Nowhere."

On sudden protective impulse, without really thinking about what he was doing, Carlos crossed to the desk and began to smooth Cecil's hair back into place. Cecil melted a little into the touch, and Carlos realized how intimate the gesture was and tried not to snatch his hands back too quickly. There was still a clump sticking out, and he squashed the urge to fix it. He coughed awkwardly into his hand. "It would really help me with my, uh, science."

Cecil seemed disappointed at the loss of contact. "You don't have your equipment."

Carlos mentally smacked his forehead. "I forgot it in the car," he answered lamely.

Cecil was staring at the wall again, and the silence between them was unbearably uncomfortable. Thankfully, it wasn't too long before Cecil broke it. "It was another radio studio," he said, tone unreadable.

_Score one for the Desert Bluffs swap theory,_ noted the little science voice in the back of Carlos' head.

Cecil fell quiet again, but it seemed like there was more he wanted to say, so Carlos waited.

"It was awful," Cecil said at last. "There was blood everywhere, and teeth and bits of skin, and gore all over the-" His voice was rising in pitch, bordering on hysterical, and Carlos cut him off just as the mic began whistling like a distressed tea kettle.

"Cecil," he said. "You're back now. It's okay."

But Cecil's eyes were still lost, looking at Carlos like the scientist could somehow save him, lift him from the blood-soaked room his mind was still trapped in, leaving Carlos deeply unsettled. Cecil, sonorous Cecil, as inexplicable and bizarre as the town he lived in, had encountered something beyond whatever horrors Night Vale could provide – so far beyond that it had rattled Cecil to his core. Carlos shuddered at the idea that such a thing could exist. Under Cecil's pleading, lonely gaze, Carlos gave in and tucked back that final stray tuft of hair, then moved his hands down to adjust Cecil's collar and tie, trying to ignore the little smears of blood on his sweater vest. "You're back," was all Carlos could think of to say, because Cecil loved Night Vale. And because Cecil also loved Carlos, and Carlos had maybe possibly more than just scientific interest in Cecil, he added, "And I'm here."

Cecil's smile came back, and it was brighter than the desert sun that was never quite astronomically correct.


End file.
